Dressed for Success
by Mochi-girl
Summary: It's date night for Birkhoff and Sonya.
1. Chapter 1

This story is written for entertainment purposes only. If you're under age, scram. And BTW, children's Internet use should be monitored by their parents, not me.

* * *

Dressed for Success

* * *

She wasn't sure how a pair of jeans and a t-shirt could be scary, after all she had faced down Amanda and Percy and had more than one dance with death. But somehow, these tight denim jeans, which were the equivalent of spray paint and an equally tight t-shirt with the word 'HACKER" written across it's chest really frightened her.

Sonya sighed and threw the garments on her bed. They landed next to the red satin push up bra and a studded black leather belt. She turned toward her mirror and saw a proper young woman in a suit with perfectly coifed hair looking back. The dark maroon suit was very stylish for a businesswoman… the high necked blouse stylish for a church going businesswoman, the leather pumps stylish for a church going businesswoman who was in her forties. She rolled her eyes at herself and took her hands and mussed up her hair, pulling strands around her face and creating an unruly mass of curls.

Her dressing table was uncharacteristically messy, with pots of eye and lip color and the equipment to affix a pair of false eyelashes. It was a bit daunting but the girls on you tube made it look easy and encouraged their watchers to go dramatic. Even the women monitoring the flash news feeds wore color and shine. She was blessed with a flawless complexion and had a routine: eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss were her staples. She'd always thought making yourself up was rubbish, but the last few months had made her painfully aware of how she looked.

Sonya thought Birkhoff looked like a rock star, sexy but comfortable with a style that was uniquely his. If she was going to be seen with him, she didn't want to feel like she was on a perpetual blind date.

_Naughty schoolgirl indeed!_ She'd show Seymour what naughty was and took the lid off of a shoebox. She unwrapped a pair of leather boots with all sorts of straps and impossibly high stiletto heels.

* * *

Birkhoff stepped out of the shower and used a towel on his hair before wrapping it around his hips. He used his hand to wipe a circle of steam off of his medicine cabinet mirror and thought about the last time he'd had a haircut. He shook his head like a wet dog and his hair fell down haphazardly. When Alex had snipped away and chunks of his locks had fallen on his shoulders, he thought he had lost his mind. Why he would allow her to go at him with a pair of scissors was insane.

He thought damage control and used an ancient jar of Dippity Do and tried to combed his hair into place. That was a disaster, besides smelling bad, he looked like he'd dumped white glue on his head. He rinsed his hair in the sink and slicked it back and the residue kept it in place. He doused himself with Aramis cologne, something he knew Michael used when he went out on Valentine Missions. _Oh the sacrifices we make..._ he thought to himself knowing how painful it must be to seduce beautiful bimbos.

Just outside the bathroom door were a pile of clothes on the floor. Baggy denim jeans that were at least three inches too long, a well worn t-shirt with an image of Bob Marley swinging his dreadlocks around, his favorite jacket that was half safari and half military and covered with pockets, and a pair of converse tennis shoes that had looked like they'd been to summer camp.

He kicked the pile aside and reached for the garment bag that lay across his bed. He unzipped it in one fluid move and removed a dark gray gabardine suit and a light pink button down shirt. All the sales woman had to say was he looked like_ Matt Bomer in White Collar_ and Birkhoff was sold. He pulled the pants on, wondering if going commando was a good idea as he rearranged himself more comfortably.

Seymour Birkhoff knew he was a scrub, and he wanted to let Sonya know he cared about how she saw him. Maybe a little effort in his appearance would show her he could be as well dressed as he was smart. The perfect package.

He slipped on a pair of Italian wingtips and tied the laces neatly. Someone once said, clothes make the man. He thought maybe that someone wasn't a bonafide asshole after all.

* * *

The corridors in Division headquarters were cold and austere and Sonya's boots made a click clacking sound as she walked towards the wing that housed the sleeping quarters. She had almost changed her clothes and washed her face but somewhere inside of her she knew it was time to _woman up _and use it before she would loose it. So she slipped on her new cropped leather jacket and headed toward what she hoped would be a duly impressed and a very turned-on Seymour Birkhoff.

Her apprehension had spiked, but was tempered with excitement, until she ran smack dab into Owen Elliott.

"Excuse me." Sonya said feeling timid and a little foolish.

Owen raked his eyes over her. "No, 'scuse meee..." He drawled and instead of stepping aside, he stood his ground, blocking her exit. "Sonya, what are you all dolled up for?"

She wondered if she looked clownish or juvenile. "I just thought... I wanted to try a new look."

Owen almost whistled. "Well this new look seems to work. I like the hair." He said admiring her froth of curls. "Any special occasion?" He saw the flustered look on her face and couldn't help but torture her.

"No." Her eyes darted around. "I'm meeting Birkhoff and we were going to go out and possibly take in some music."

"Well, you look amazing." He said sincerely.

"Thank you." She muttered.

He smiled at her knowingly. "Have fun tonight." He finally took a step to his left and let her pass by, wishing he could be a fly on the wall.

* * *

When Birkhoff left his apartment, he was feeling pretty confident and cocky, but that attitude started to dissipate once he was in the elevator going down into the bowels of Division headquarters. He reminded himself how sophisticated and put together Sonya always looked. What got to him was knowing what was inside of that conservative looking shell, she was smokin' hot!

He hoped he appeared to be struttin' down the corridor and not looking like a geek on a pogo stick. They agreed they would meet in his old quarters at Division, it was a shrine to all he had endured. As he rounded the corner, he cringed when he saw Owen ambling towards him.

This time Owen had to give up a cat call and whistle. "You're looking like a man on a mission." He winked at Birkhoff, thinking he was really clever.

Birkhoff wasn't going to let this guy get to him. "That I am. I have a date with the smartest woman in Division."

Owen raised his eyebrows, "You're going out with Mary in Research and Development?" He thought of the department head who was a looker if not a bruiser and who treated the agents like they were hired assassins, which they were.

Birkhoff wasn't taking the bait. "Sonya, _My_ Sonya" he said definitively.

Owen smirked. "You know I'm yankin' your computer cord. You've cleaned up good."

Birkhoff grinned goofily. "You think?"

"Oh yeah, for real. You look like that guy from that TV show. Ya know the one I'm talking about." Owen tried not to laugh. "Go! Have fun."

Birkhoff's face lit up but then he gave up a dubious look. "Thanks, man. I will." He continued to bounce down the corridor.

Owen wondered if there was a security feed he could tap into. He would give his glock to see what these two would do when they saw each other.


	2. Chapter 2

This story is written for entertainment purposes only. If you're under age, scram. And BTW, children's Internet use should be monitored by their parents, not me.

* * *

Sonya felt like she was on a roller coaster. Her self-esteem slowly climbed inch by inch and just when she thought she had it figured out, she would free fall downward, while inwardly screaming, "I must be bloody insane!" As the evening amusement-ride rounded the corner, she heard muffled voices and rather than go through another interrogation session like she had with Owen, she ducked in the Ladies room. She was almost afraid to look at herself in the mirror, but when she did, instead of cringing, she was rather surprised at what she saw.

Her hair was a mass of curls and rather than straightening it with a flat iron and pinning it up, she had invested in some overpriced hair products. The woman at the salon told her to scrunch it up with her hands and let it dry naturally. It was actually pretty cute and her hair smelled like grapefruit and that made her happy.

She had skipped the false lashes; it was way too much fuss for the reward and opted for a few extra coats of mascara. Her eyelids shimmered with a dramatic color of green and just like the girl on you-tube said, it flattered her deep brown eyes. She had finished with a dramatic lip liner in deep coral and filled it in with lot of shiny gloss. All in all, it wasn't bad.

Being small in height and stature, Sonya did everything she could to avoid looking like a teenager. She had overcompensated with either mature or conservative looking clothes and shoes. What she really wanted was to be taken seriously and she thought this was the means to an end. There was no denying the tight white t-shirt over her new red satin VS bra was very sexy and the extra padding gave her a little boost, both in confidence and chest size. She was pleased to know she still looked like a woman and not a fan waiting in line for a _One Direction_ concert.

Her denim jeans were crazy expensive but she realized her butt had never looked better and although they fit like a glove, they were also quite comfortable. The studded leather belt and those boots with the straps wound around them made a statement. "Be my slave" they mocked, and she quite liked that. Sonya didn't feel cheap and tawdry, and for the first time since she started this private "mission" she felt empowered and self-assured.

She was startled out of her new found confidence when one of the toilets flushed with a whooshing sound. Like everything in Division, the sound bounced around the hard surfaces.

Alex walked out tucking in her blouse and looked surprised to see Sonya standing there with a startled look on her face. To say she was surprised was an understatement.

"Hey, you're not working tonight, are you?" She checked out the woman in front of her and said, "You look really incredible. I love your hair and those boots are to die for!"

Sonya was relieved that Alex didn't laugh at her. "Thank you, you don't think it's too much, do you?"

"Not at all." Alex went to the sink and washed her hands. She pulled down a paper towel and gave her a knowing smile. "You look like you're prepped and ready for a fun night. Nikita once told me that we all have a side to our personalities just waiting to be tapped. I'd say you found yours."

Sonya rather liked that. "I thought I was doing all this to please Seymour, but I just realized, I've done it for me."

"And that's the best way to feel, isn't it? I use to really hate how I looked." They both knew her past was dark and sordid. "It's ironic, but it was Amanda who taught Nikita how to be a chameleon and feel good about how she looked. Nikita passed that basic philosophy on to me. Looks like you've managed to figure that out on your own."

There were times like this, where Sonya's smile would light up an entire room. "Thanks Alex. I appreciate the vote of confidence."

* * *

He finally got it. Now he understood why Michael always dressed so well. It made you stand up straight and that aura of authority, or maybe it was superiority, felt good. Having a custom fitted dress shirt and a suit tailored was really worth the extra money. He admired the perfect length of his sleeves and the placing of the buttons. He appreciated how comfortable and soft the silk shirt felt against his skin. He understood why it was important to have the hem of your pants break in just the right place, and how you could feel taller wearing a jacket that hung just so on your frame. It was kind of a revelation to know he could look this good and still bypass ninety-nine percent of the firewalls on the planet.

Birkhoff knew it was more than a little twisted to constantly meet up at work, but he never felt at home in his new apartment like he did in his digs in Division. He felt comfortable surrounded by towers filled with hard drives and computer servers. He like his video console that was loaded with his favorite games, but most of all he liked knowing that he'd survived all the years he spent under Percy's watch.

He almost expected to see her sitting in his swivel chair, her ear piece in, tapping on the keys and studying the monitor with those huge doe-like eyes. She was brilliant, and if truth be told, much smarter than he was. Birkhoff always had that streak of enthusiasm, motivation and competitiveness to be the best at what he did, but so did Sonya. It was just packaged differently.

Luck was on his side, he had beaten her to his room. Earlier in the day, he had set out a dozen votive candles in colorful glass holders and now he took a moment to light them. They flickered nicely in the climate controlled environment. Next he went to the refrigerator in the corner of the room and pulled out a chilled bottle of French champagne and two crystal flutes that he stole from Percy and Amanda's old office. He set them down next to a box of salted caramels that he knew she loved.

He even made a special playlist for her: _I Want You… __Unchained Melody… Truly, Madly, Deeply… Crazy in Love… I'm Yours… I'll Make Love to You… Sara Smile... Beautiful Ones... _He set his iPod in it's cradle and pressed play and Marvin Gaye's sensual voice warmed the room.

There was a soft knock on the door and he lowered the lights.


	3. Chapter 3

This story is written for entertainment purposes only. If you're under age, scram. And BTW, children's Internet use should be monitored by their parents, not me.

* * *

Birkhoff took a deep breath. _Its showtime_ he murmured to himself and opened the door. He was expecting to see Sonya in all her sweetness and was more than a little annoyed to see the brooding face of Michael.

Michael gave Birkhoff the once over and suppressed the urge to smirk. He tried to look serious but his eyes were filled with merriment. "I heard you were in the building, I wanted to find out if you had any luck tracking down a location on Edward Volker."

Like Michael, Birkhoff was suppressing an urge, but this urge had to do with slamming the door in Michael's face.

"You have got to be kidding?" He looked as exasperated as he sounded. "I am off the clock and unless you can get Lindsay Lohan into rehab, my drones in Ops can fill you in."

Michael tried to look taken aback. He looked over Birkhoff's shoulder and into his quarters. "Are you having a séance in there? I see candles burning."

Birkhoff didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, I've got the Ouija Board out too. I'm hoping to conjure up the spirit of Roan and hand him a piece of piano wire to wrap around your neck." He squinted at his long time friend. "Seriously Dude, what do you want?"

"I ran into Owen…" Michael said feeling a little juvenile.

Birkhoff glowered at him. "Apparently Owen misses his High School days. Look man, if you're here to make fun of me, consider it done. Okay? You can go."

That _oh so serious_ face appeared on Michael. "Lighten up. I'm sorry if I'm causing you all sorts of angst. This doesn't have to be about drama, it's really about friendship."

"Mikey, if you're my friend, you'll get out of here before Sonya arrives. I want to surprise her with the new threads." He stood up straight and tall.

"You look great, looks like you've got a good tailor." He gave him a scrutinizing look. "You must be in to her, to go to all this trouble."

Birkhoff shrugged. "Yeah, I am and I want her to feel like we can be a couple that matches, like you and Nikki. You guys look like the male slash female version of each other. That isn't meant to sound creepy." He really did admire the casual way Michael wore his expensive clothes, and since coming back to Division, Nikita was always dressed to the Nines.

"I believe that was a compliment and I appreciate the thumbs up. You know of course I would love Nikita even if she dressed in baggy jeans and t-shirts with ironic sayings. It's what's inside that counts." He tapped his chest with his fist.

"That's what they say, but words are cheap and I wanted to show her." He stood aside so Michael could look in. "I'm not inviting you in, but I wouldn't mind the _Mikey Seal of Approval._

Michael saw the candles, the champagne chilling, the box of chocolates and the low music. He looked impressed. "I have taught you well."

"It's not too much?" He asked, wanting more affirmation.

"Not at all, but remember, it's who you are, not what designer name or expensive jewelry you're wearing." He tried to look serious. "Although Nikita is obsessed with you getting a haircut."

Birkhoff looked slightly offended. "Duly noted. You think you could leave now? She'll be here any second and I don't want her to think I'm showing off."

Michael nodded his head. "Go get em' tiger…" He said with quiet enthusiasm.

Birkhoff watched him walk away and heard the click clack of heels coming toward him.

* * *

As soon as he walked into Operations he saw Nikita across the room. "What's going on?" He asked walking toward her.

"Not too much." She was stunning as usual. She wore a calf length dress in a creamy white. It hugged every curve and showed off her tiny waist. "I told Ryan I would hang around, he gave Birkhoff and Sonya the night off."

Birkhoff's words flashed through his head _You guys look like the male slash female version of each other. _He had to admit it was true, his silk shirt matched her dress perfectly and the suit he had chosen was particularly flattering to his lean physique.

Michael raised his eyebrows at her. "I just had a word with the _Ladies Man_ in his den and it looks like they're staying in for the night.

Nikita's eyes sparkled. "Good for them. You know I ran into Sonya and saw her buying some black leather boots." She gave that look she had perfected. "I'm quite sure you'd approve of them. Stiletto's, straps and buckles, just the type of thing that fuels your imagination." She half whispered in a husky voice.

Only Nikita could make Michael blush. He cleared his throat. "You don't say…"

* * *

It seemed impossible that Sonya's big beautiful brown eyes could grow any larger, until the door opened and she saw Birkhoff V.2 standing in front of her.

Birkhoff, best known for his sarcastic quips, was uncharacteristically speechless when he saw her.

They studied each other and it seemed an eternity before one of them spoke.

"May I come in?" Sonya asked tentatively. The way he looked at her made her feel quite warm, but the way he looked, made her squirm.

"Yeah, sure, by all means." He answered awkwardly and ushered her in.

Sonya was overwhelmed by what she saw. The flickering candles, the chilled bubbly and fancy stemware, the chocolates she liked so much and one of her favorite tunes _Truly, Madly, Deeply _softly playing in the background.

"You did all this for me?" She was touched that Seymour would be so thoughtful.

"I did. And you did all this for me?" He asked his eyes raking over her, soaking in her hair and how her body was poured into her T-Shirt and jeans. And then there were her boots...

Sonya saw how sophisticated and put together he was. She couldn't stand it any longer. She rushed at him and kissed him passionately on the lips, and Birkhoff knew he was alive and gone to heaven.

From that moment on, there was a frenzy, a tornado, an absolute hailstorm of stiletto boots, wingtip shoes, gabardine and denim, silk, cotton and satin. There were intertwined arms and legs, hands here and there, and lips and tongues tussling. She did this little thing to him that made him catch his breath and moan and he reciprocated until she made those special little sounds that only he would hear.

The candles flickered and the music played and both knew they had successfully dressed for the evening.

* * *

She pushed back feeling a little embarrassed at her boldness. "Sorry for being such a hussy, but I couldn't help myself." She panted. "I hope you don't mind?"

"Me? Mind? No!" He said breathlessly, realizing he could only speak one syllable at a time.

"You looked lovely Seymour, really. That color suits you"

"You look fucking amazing." He declared in a dazed kind of way.

Sonya leaned over and poured a glass of champagne for each of them. "I think it's quite interesting that the clothes and all the fuss that goes along with it... I mean here we are... "

"Stark naked." Birkhoff answered with a chuckle. He took the glass from her.

"Let's make a toast!" She suggested. "Here's to dressing..." She said.

"...just to be undressed." He answered. They tapped their glasses together, sipped, and shared a chocolate.

* * *

Author's Note: Happy New Year to all. Who would like to accompany me and take Birkhoff shopping?


End file.
